


lie here with me

by wingeddserpent



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: F/M, Guilt, Loss, POV Second Person, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/wingeddserpent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Phoenix Cave, Locke has some trouble coping. Celes has her own issues. They make do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lie here with me

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Locke/Celes: psychological scars, guilt, desperation - I need you to touch me.
> 
> Note: This has some non-explicit references to a suicide attempt.

Your palms itch where the magicite touches, but you don’t set it aside; instead, you turn it over in your hands, over and over, and it glints in this sun that is nothing like the sun you remember. This is more like dusk, the last moments of light before the darkness, and you shake your head, try not to think too hard about this _new_ world you’ve all been given.

(After everything, she is still gone. Just _gone,_ with parting words meant to soothe and instead gut you, leave you with brackish uncertainty and emptiness. You don’t feel much better, and a part of you feels like maybe this is what everyone was warning you about, all along. Of course, you didn’t listen.)

Phoenix dries out your skin with its heat, though not quite enough to break. That, you figure, must be a bonus of its healing properties. Those same healing properties you looked for and looked for. And you focused on healing and protecting and healing for so long that it became your heartbeat, until it fueled you and became you. But it never got you anywhere, did it?

You couldn’t protect or heal Rachel, couldn’t protect Terra, couldn’t save Celes, couldn’t save or heal this world.

As it turns out, you are exactly and only what everyone says you are: a no-good thief.

There are footsteps behind you and you don’t turn to look, don’t really care who it is, or, at least, you tell yourself you don’t. You brace yourself for the _I told you so_ that’s sure to follow, but it doesn’t come. Instead, cool hands brace against your shoulders and you shiver from the proximity and not the temperature.

“Celes,” you breathe, “What -?”

She pulls quickly away from you, like you’ve burned her or she’s recalculated her desire to be near you. Frankly, you don’t blame her.

(You kept Rachel in your basement with a fool’s hope; you didn’t believe in Celes when she risked everything to save you and other people she hardly knew; you went to find Rachel after the world ended, instead of your friends who were much more likely to live. You abandoned them for a past that is gone, and, if you’re going to be truthful, was gone from the moment Rachel saved you on that bridge.)

“I - am sorry. About what happened. I think it would have been - a great joy for you, had Phoenix been able to save her. I cannot imagine what such a loss would feel like twice.”

There’s an honesty to her statement that takes you off-guard. She’s always been blunt, sure. Sharp and cutting and cold and so very strong. And while you never really thought of her as a liar, you never expected her to say something like that, and yeah, it kinda hurts. Because it’s not often you can tell how young and bad with people she is, but this is one of those times.

You shrug, not shrugging off her words, just not knowing how to respond to them. “I’m just glad we all found one another again.”

And you surprise yourself by mostly meaning it.

“It was a near thing. I am - surprised that we all -” she stops and you turn to look at her.

Her face is smooth, eyes wide and blue and so very blank, and you don’t know what she’s thinking about or what to say, so you reach out to her, but she doesn’t react, just keeps staring at some space where you very much _aren’t_ , and how many times is she going to leave you behind?

(Not that she’s under any obligation to take you along. You just wish - No no no no. No wishing. Not like this, not with her. She deserves better than bland expectations or being cast into a role that doesn’t suit. She had enough of that to last her a lifetime, you know just from how she carries herself and the few stories she’s told you about her time as a General.)

“I - “ she stalls, averts her gaze, and then her hands clench, and she looks back at you, fiercely, because Celes can’t stand being even in the slightest _weak,_ “Did not think all of us would survive the Cataclysm. That we lived is... More than I dared hope for.”

You really study her now - notice the lines around her eyes that weren’t there before. She seems thinner, that golden curtain of hair more unkempt and uneven. But mostly, she just looks more tired; she has that pinched look of someone who’s given up but decided, against all odds, to keep going. You know that look - you wore that look a long time after Rachel - after Rachel died.

“Celes -”

She stops you with a shake of her head. “You would ask of me questions that you do not want answered. What came before is irrelevant. I am as you see me now - an ex-General seeking salvation. It does not do to dwell upon before. It will not aid us in achieving our goal.”

It’s sharp and pointed and you wince. Because as long as she’s known you, you’ve been trapped in the past. At the end of it all, you went searching for a way to save Rachel, instead of finding your friends, and no amount of treasure will ever make up for that. Chances are, there’s not really anything you can do about it. You shake your head and look at her, at this ex-General who’s been working so hard, who’s faced all these hardships, and here you are, holding a piece of magicite that couldn’t fix all of your problems.

You hold it out to her and she flinches away from it.

Belatedly, you realize _fire_. Celes hates the fire.

“I am _not_ dead,” she whispers, and you blink, because that wasn’t what you were expecting from her. “I’m not dead,” she repeats, more firmly, eyes alight with something like fury.

She pushes your hand away and you blink, catch her wrist with your other hand. This isn’t like Celes and you don’t know what’s caused the change. “Celes . What - I just thought maybe you’d like to inherit the spells. I wasn’t suggesting -”

For a moment, she just stares at you. And then her expression shutters, smoothes out like ice, and she looks away from you. It takes you aback - the Celes you remember was so rarely cowed, and here she is, eyes downcast, expression so far gone. She’s left you behind again and this time it’s your fault. You stuff Phoenix away into one of your many pockets, letting go of her hand in the process.

Celes doesn’t look at you for a long while, stares down at some place you’re not, and you look at your hands. Here you are, alone again. She’s left you here and you don’t even know why she went, except that it had nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with you.

(Lonely, you’ve been lonely a long time. After your grandma died, you were alone until Rachel and then you were alone again, until this journey. And you gave that up chasing a lost dream and here you are, alone again, with this unreachable girl - woman - person - within arm’s reach but never ever that close. What do you do with yourself, now? Kill Kefka, sure. Save this broken world, sure. But that’s not enough. Vengeance isn’t enough. Not for you. You’ve always wanted more.)

You shudder, and it runs through your entire body, and you reach out for her, catch her hand in both of yours, and her gaze lands on you, finally.

“Please,” you say, hushed, can’t help it, shouldn’t burden her with this, “Please, just. Just touch me?”

She blinks, her brows furrowing, but there’s a stark vulnerability you’ve only seen in her a few times, and she reaches out with her free hand and rests it against your left forearm. The touch is light and her skin is cool and, like usual, it’s not nearly enough. You move one of your hands, to pull hers away from your forearm. Celes blinks as you bring her hand to your face, and her fingers tense for a moment, before she relaxes, cupping your cheek.

Briefly, you wonder if she’s ever done this before. Probably not.

That should be enough to stall you, but it isn’t. ( _Give your love to the one who dwells within your heart,_ Rachel had said. _Love her as you loved me_. Except love’s not that easy and loving Celes, you think, will be completely different from loving Rachel.)

“I’m sorry -” she says.

She beats you to it.

And you have no idea about what she’s sorry about, and then Maranda comes to mind, all of her days as a soldier, and you open your mouth, to tell her something, anything, except what can you possibly say? “Celes - I -”

She shakes her head, sharply, but what silences you is that she strokes your cheekbone with her thumb. “Allow me my remorse,” she tells you softly.

“I - Well, then, let me have mine. I’m sorry, too.”

And after a moment’s pause, she nods, and the hand in yours clutches tighter, and you shut your eyes, relax into her touch. You shudder again - because you’re both right here, together, in this place where guilt is the heavy silence you can’t break and neither of you really know where the other’s guilt comes from and you honestly just want everything to be all right. But so little is right on this stupid broken world of yours and that magicite in your pocket was supposed to solve everything.

But it didn’t. Not even close, really. Moving on, as it turns out, is not as straightforward as Celes. Celes isn’t the answer to all of your problems either, and you can’t cast her into that role.

“You saved a bird,” she murmurs, “With your bandana.”

Honestly, you’d nearly forgotten about that. You’re not sure what sort of a response she expects, so you just nod, because you did. You’d found the bird while hunting for Phoenix and, well, you hadn’t really been able to do anything else for it and you’d had an extra bandana with you, anyway. It had seemed the least you could do. But how does Celes know about that?

“I - Thank you,” she says, pulls her hands away from you.

You look down at the magick-charred grass beneath your feet. “You’re welcome. Celes - hey - how about we head -”

And you stop, because all of a sudden she’s in your personal space, face so close to yours that you can feel the stir of her breath on your cheeks, but she doesn’t kiss you. Celes brings one hand to the nape of your neck, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin there. Her eyes are bright and blue and clear, and there’s some sorrow there that you don’t really recognize. But it doesn’t matter right now, because your hands settle on her tense shoulders.

You hardly dare breathe for fear of breaking this single, fragile moment, where she’s crouched, looking up at you, hands on you, touching you.

Maybe you can’t undo the past, maybe you can’t fix what was broken; but, maybe maybe maybe, you can find something new in this mess of a world. Maybe it'll be okay that Phoenix didn't work like you hoped it would. And maybe, just maybe, Celes can be more than just an ex-General. Maybe she can find all those things she was denied before. Maybe this will be enough.


End file.
